


Forget-me-not

by reus123



Category: Town of Salem (Video Game)
Genre: 2nd person POV, :), Delusions, F/F, Happy Halloween, Implied Death, No spooky content unfortunately, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 09:37:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21251279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reus123/pseuds/reus123
Summary: The blackmailer, and the end.





	Forget-me-not

A kind man once told you to be happy, to have a good life. 

He had looked so optimistic, standing with the assurance of a life well lived, gleaming out in his polished shoes and wide grin. You took his hand and found a new family, leaving behind the rubble that was your home. 

This peace could never last. Kindness turns to cruelty with the slow certainty of the seasons changing, the bitter wind brushing away warmth. And kind men turn cruel from the harsh methods of living, from being backed into a corner too many times. 

You remember the way he hid the past, dressing it up in stories too vivid to be true. You sift through yellowed photographs and feel your heart slowly breaking. The skies are a frozen blue, the colour of ice, the colour of sorrow.

The harsh bark of a gunshot still rings in your ears on soundless nights.

A cruel man told you to destroy this corrupted kingdom, to leave behind nothing but ruin. His words were edged with weariness, as if he had seen ahead to the cold eye of a gun barrel staring him down. There is to be nothing left, he said, for them to wreck, and only then will you be safe. 

And so you do.

\--

You crack the window, wanting to smell the familiar purple dusk, with its silent promises of more, of better, to be had, the freshness on the breeze that turns acidic on your tongue. The pink-tinged clouds remind you of bloodstains washed into the gutters, poisoning you even as you try to scrub clean the past, dripping into the dark, dark scarlet that you can't quite get from under your nails.

Her necklace swings idly in the breeze, glittering a perfect gold that was as cold as her smile. You long to hear her voice again, for her singing to reach into your memory, picking out sunlit days where the future seemed to be a fixed path to redemption. 

"Forgive us our trespasses, as you forgive those who trespass against us." Your lips shape the words, empty breath without meaning, a reflex forged from years of familiarity. Her ghost seems to sweep through the house, fluttering the curtains and whispering in your ear when your gaze starts to darken. You sift through her notes, penned painstakingly during long nights, trying to remember the way her eyes would glow with happiness. 

She's too far gone, a lingering shadow that hangs around your neck and threatens to choke you with unwavering nostalgia, her empty eyes still staring into yours whenever you meet her in dreams. That's her domain now, as this town once was, a temporary refuge from the horrors of reality. The paper swirls in the evening breeze, and you watch the sheets fly around the room. You wonder if she has wings now, in a heaven that you never really believed in. 

You wonder if she's finally found salvation. 

\--

You knew him once, knew his name, now nothing more than a worn inscription on a mossy grave. The sacrificial lamb, thrown out onto the streets to fend against the wolves. A high price to pay for the sin of living.

His lighter calls from a forgotten age, speaking to you in the soft rasp of metal as it clicks into life. A warm core of flame, wavering, a spectre of light in the darkness. You're too accustomed to a different kind of fire, of the sparks that spit from the collision of gunpowder and anger, the harsh metallic click of a bullet primed. 

The paper catches alight so easily, and you remember the warmth as he first shook your hand. His smile glows like the red dawn, like pools of blood on linoleum floors. You watch the flame flicker out and see the eyes of dead men.

You scatter the ashes of the past, closing the door on a lost chapter of your history, to buried among the weeds. 

\--

The townspeople call you a sinner, but the only salvation you've ever known is her soft smile at dusk. Rose tinted light sparkled dully in her eyes, shone out a beacon of hope that set your face into a gentle smile. 

The click of your camera captured her so perfectly, her beauty constrained in the glossy paper, to be added to your growing collection. You watch the colours bleed into life, water rippling with red light as the photograph floats to the depths.

She stands at the open door, holding flowers in her hand and tears in her eyes, trying to ignore the smoke, trying to not see the fire. She takes your hand and tells you to walk with her.

You can feel your heart pounding, words drying up as you come face to face with the glittering idol of your dreams. Warm eyes meet yours, and her smile sends your heart lurching out of time, to a half-forgotten beat that winds around your ear like the mystical serpent, whispering for you to take the first bite. "Of course I want to walk with you." You wonder if your tone has always been so clumsy, tripping over the air forced to form words, to give meaning to your breaths. You wonder if she's noticed your imperfections, if she'll finally realise who you are. 

You walk to your last dawn hand in hand with your betrayer, her picture still drowning in your red-lighted sink.

**Author's Note:**

> Godfather - Consigliere - Mafioso - Spy
> 
> More of a character study than a story. Hope you liked it :)


End file.
